My thighs strain in my trousers, and I—
“Lowell, you massive prick!” Elliot throws open my office doors, interrupting my dirty thoughts.
I quickly roll my chair under the desk, effectively hiding my semi under the hardwood—pun not intended.
“Can you fucking knock?” I snap, pretending to look at something on my monitor.
He stops short, halfway to my desk. “You’re not watching porn, are you?” His face morphs into a knowing smirk. “You are, aren’t you!”
“Fuck off Elliot. What do you want?”
“Why did you fire my PA?” His face turns serious as he places his hands on his hips.
Emma, Elliot’s personal assistant, decided she’d had enough of his reluctance to do anything more than sleep with her. I found his office completely trashed on Friday morning, and the words ‘whore’ sprayed in red on the entire glass wall for the rest of the office to see. If Elliot turned up to work more than three days a week, he would have known this. I’ve fired all five of his previous PAs after they’ve either ended up going batshit crazy on him or damaged property that doesn’t belong to them.
“What was her name?” I question, as I look at the same spreadsheet I’ve been staring at for the last two hours.
“What does that matter? I’ve got a shit ton of emails to get through, and my computer isn’t letting me log in.” He frowns. “Did you hire someone else?”
“No, do it yourself,” I tell him, bored.
He doesn’t say anything. We both know he doesn’t have a clue where to start when looking for staff.
I huff out a long breath as I pick up the phone, and I dial Sal in HR. “I need a personal assistant for Montgomery.”
She tsks, then I hear her tapping on her keyboard. “I will see what I can do, Mr Lowell, but we struggle to find anyone from the agency nowadays with Mr Montgomery’s track record.”
“Up the salary five-k a year, I want a male.” My eyes flick to Elliot. “If it’s a female, she needs to be over fifty.” I hang up.
Elliot stands, smirking at me. “You know I’m not afraid of a cougar.”
“Sleep with your next assistant, and I will fucking fireyou.”
“What’s crawled up your ass, you miserable prick. You have slept with more than your fair share, your receptionist for starters.” He gestures towards the reception desk that’s hidden beyond the frosted glass windows.
“Ourreceptionist is called Alice, Elliot,” I mutter deadpan. And Alice knows how this works. I don’tdateany of my employees, and I never take them to my home. There are no promises of more, and I make sure they are well aware of that before I stick my dick in them.
Elliot, on the other hand, took his last assistant to his parents for a weekend away and then wonders why she thinks she’s different.
That one just ended up batshit crazy. She didn’t even cause any fuss. Thankfully, we can pay people to deal with crazy.
“Whatever. I need someone from IT to come fix my computer.” He lays himself down on my office sofa, his feet hanging over the armrest.
“It’s a new computer, dumbass. That’s why you can’t log in. The password and set-up details are in your top drawer.” I open my own drawer, retrieving a key and chucking it at him.
“Where is my old computer? And why do you have my key?” He frowns in confusion but doesn’t move from the sofa.
I pinch the bridge of my nose, fed up with this conversation. “It’s a new desk, Elliot. Your assistant, Emma, bashed the shit out of yours with her stilettos. Your computer suffered a similar fate.”
He sits up, smiling. “I knew she was a feisty little minx.” He laughs.
“Your father turned up at the same time as the cleaners.” I scowl at him, not finding this at all funny.
“Well shit, that’s what Dad was going on about. Fuck! Sorry, Mase. Are you coming out on Friday, yeah? You completely bailed on us last weekend.” He comes to stand in front of my desk, glancing around at the screen.
“I’m not watching fucking porn, Elliot.” I shoot him a look of disbelief. “And I would have been out, but after I dealt with your latest victim, your father, and then had to deal withmyfather,” I remind him, my rage only building with the memory. “I wasn’t exactly in the mood.”
“But you still showed up.” He tilts his head, looking at me pointedly. “Even after dealing with your dad.” He’s still smirking as if this is all funny to him. Then he goes deeper. “Why was that Mase? Wasn’t anything to do with a certain Pixie?”
